


Sailing Ships

by discordapple



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Pirates, little kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-17
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-07 22:56:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/436365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discordapple/pseuds/discordapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Complete... I think.</p><p>"Initially, he wanted to be a pirate."<br/>- Mycroft Holmes, A Scandal in Belgravia</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First posting - please be gentle with me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft Holmes: "Initially, he wanted to be a pirate."  
> \- A Scandal in Belgravia

“What’re you doing in my backyard?”

Sherlock spun around, facing the wary voice behind him. “Adventuring! I’m a pirate and I have come here exploring. What do you call yourself, indigenous creature?”

The blond boy in front of him frowned, “Indiginos?”

Sherlock waved his sword again. Really, Mycroft was wrong. It truly was all in the swish sound.

“Your name, give me your name, savage! Or have I landed in a continent where there is no language yet?” That would be exciting, he thought. “We could communicate with sign language-”

Sherlock was certainly enjoying his voyage this time round. 

_Probably because I marooned Mycroft._  

Of course, it would be more enjoyable if he weren’t alone.

_That’s what comes of being the sole survivor of a terrible storm at sea,_ he tilted his chin up and gave the boy a once over.  _Yes. He will do nicely as a new first mate._

“I’m Captain Sherlock,” he tugged off his hat and shook the sword a little bit more. “As you are the first native I have stumbled upon, and as my crew has all died of plague-” _It sounded cooler than tossed overboard, no matter how bad the storm…_ “-or eaten by sharks,”… _eaten by sharks was certainly more interesting than tricked into a cupboard in search of cake…_ “I will be needing a new first mate. Interested?”

The boy’s eyebrows shot towards his hair and his blue eyes looked even bigger by the action. “You’re a pirate?”

Sherlock sighed. It would be hard, naturally, to replace Mycroft. Not that he would ever admit that. Mycroft would be asking back on the crew and he wasn’t allowed.  _Not after he laughed at my new pirate hat._

“I’m a pirate captain. I have a sword, see?” he whirled it about, becoming caught up in the swishing and stabbing motions, when his weapon collided with the other boy.

“OW!”

_Really he was lucky I have such impeccable swordsmanship skills, he could easily have been decapitated._

“Defend yourself or swear your loyalty to me and my ship!”

And now, he was about to get a fist in the face.

The fist was grubby.  _Dirt? No mud._  It was raining earlier and Mummy hadn’t let him go out in it.  He dodged and the boy cuffed him on the shoulder. He assessed his wound. Maybe it would leave a scar… pirates all have scars.

“My name is John. John Watson, and you apologize for hitting me with that thing or I’ll whomp you again!”

John scowled at him as Sherlock’s brain gave a loud shout of joy.  _A WORTHY OPPONENT!_

“A pirate never apologizes!” He dug his sword in the ground even as the other boy pulled his arm back, and he rushed to continue. “But I am sorry I almost decapitated you.”

The boy dropped his fist and took a disbelieving look at the wooden sword jabbed into the earth. He looked back at Sherlock and gave a toothy grin. “I like your hat.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft Holmes: “We are in Buckingham Palace, the very heart of the British nation. Sherlock Holmes, put your trousers on!”  
> \- A Scandal in Belgravia

It had been easy marooning Mycroft.

Sherlock knew he wouldn’t be able to get Mycroft anywhere near a closet for a while, but the plan to lock him in the closet had been genius **.**

Not that Mummy had thought so.

But, it couldn’t be totally his fault that Mycroft had actually believed him. It wasn’t as if one could be utterly convincing when lying about secret cake in the back of a bedroom closet. Not his fault the closet doors locked on the outside.

None of that was really Sherlock’s fault. It had been Mycroft’s decision to believe him. Sherlock certainly couldn’t be blamed for Mycroft’s love of cake.

None of it was his fault.

So that was why it was completely unfair that Sherlock was getting punished for it. Honestly, he was a victim of circumstance. It was cruel to keep him locked inside for a whole week.

Sherlock wasn’t even allowed near his pirate hat or sword, how was a pirate captain to be taken seriously if he didn’t even have a hat?

It also meant that he wouldn't be able to see John like he’d promised.

John had proved to be a wonderful first mate, while they explored the whole of John’s backyard. There would be no future need for Mycroft aboard his ship.

Mummy said she would talk to John and explain but the face Mycroft had made at him when she had offered made him refuse. Mycroft made it look like John would make fun of him if Mummy said anything.

But not meeting his new first mate might make him angry again and the last time John had been angry he’d hit Sherlock in the shoulder. It hadn’t scarred, much to Sherlock’s disappointment, but it had caused a little golden brown bruise on his skin. Sherlock decided, that in lieu of lack of hat, the next best thing was exposing the bruise.

This is what caused the spontaneous shirt removal and led to Sherlock’s ending up half-starkers in the Manor library.  It was with deep-rooted professionalism that his tutor, Mr. Stanford, ignored this fact completely.

“Sherlock, don’t leave your clothes in a lump on the ground.”

“I’m too busy to pick it up.” Sherlock waved his pencil at his tutor and made a point to focus on the worksheet in front of him.

Standford sighed, “at least put it over the back of your chair.”

“Have you noticed my bruise?”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Yes. I did notice. Please pick up your shirt.”

Sherlock finished the assignment and grinned at him, but made no move to pick up the shirt. He doodled a skull and cross bones on the desk blotter, and Stanford thanked God he’d put it down or he’d have been ruining a priceless antique.

“I’m a pirate,” Sherlock boasted.

Stanford took a deep breath through his nose and stooped, picking up the rumpled shirt and folding it over the back of his chair.

“Of course you are.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock Holmes: “How's the diet?”  
> \- The Great Game

Sherlock was fairly positive that passing his Mum a letter give John needed to be kept secret. Mycroft would definitely have something to say about it. Not that Mycroft knew anything. He was just bossy.

Sherlock refused to care about anything Mycroft had to say. You don’t respect someone who crawls into a closet in earnest pursuit of cake.

So Sherlock had slipped Mummy the letter and hoped she knew what to do. He’d wanted to seal it with wax, like pirates did, but he wasn’t allowed to have candles or matches anymore due to that shambles involving the cat a year ago. So instead he’d folded it as tight as he could and hoped she didn’t peek.

In the meantime, Sherlock did very little. He avoided Mycroft when he was being a tosser, and he made fun of him anytime he caught his brother anywhere near the kitchens or during the dessert course at dinner. He sat around in the house, he moaned about being bored, and he thought about stealing everyone’s floss to see if he could make rope out of it.

The moaning was ignored, the floss was confiscated, and Sherlock was threatened with continued punishment if he didn’t stop bringing up his brother's unfortunate attachment to baked goods.

Even Sherlock knew he’d gone a bit too far with stringing a bunch of danish over Mycroft’s bed like a baby’s mobile.

++

Thankfully, John got the letter.

It was stuck in the mail slot, a tiny folded square, grubby with fingerprints and heavily creased from repeated folding.

John’s mum had raised an eyebrow at the strange letter and the John Watson, scrawled in spidery writing, that addressed it to her son.

She watched as he turned it over and over his hands, “who is it from, Johnny?”

“Dunno.” His little hands pried the folded paper open, until the letter was completely exposed. He grinned. “It’s from Sherlock.”

“Sherlock?”

“My friend.”

“From school?”

“Doesn’t go to school. He was in the backyard.”

She stopped folding laundry and looked at her son. “Our backyard?”

John nodded, deciding something and popped the letter into his pocket.

“Can I get some paper to write back?”

Wide blue eyes looked up at her and she automatically replied without thinking. “May I.”

John sighed, “May I?”

His mother ruffed his hair absently and nodded. She’d have to make a point to ask her husband about the fence around their yard…

John hurried into his da’s office, closing the door behind him, and spread the letter flat on the floor.

_John._

_I am being imprisoned for insubordination. Apparently it is bad to lie to your brother about dessert foods and then lock him in a closet. Thankfully I did not receive the noose. Punishment has been ruled on and I am stuck in this boring house for a whole week. It is terribly boring with just Mycroft and the tutor for company…_

John wondered if he could maybe visit Sherlock. He’d ask his mum later.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Watson: “It's a head. A severed head.”  
> Sherlock Holmes: “Just tea for me, thanks.”  
> John Watson: “No there's a head in the fridge!”  
> Sherlock Holmes: “Yes?”  
> \- The Great Game

John tugged on the hem of his jumper. His mum had laid out his clothes for the visit today, it wasn't his first time visiting the Holmes place, but his mum still said he had to wear 'nice' clothes when he came.

As it was, this sweater was just a little too short on John, as he'd grown a bit over the summer and his mum hadn't gotten around to buying new winter clothes for Harry and him yet. He tugged at it again, and realized he probably would be fine, as long as he didn't lift his arms up above his head.

As he reached out to ring the bell, two things happen simultaneously. One, his sweater rode up and two, the door opened without prompting and out popped Sherlock's curlyhead.

The rest of him followed shortly and soon they were crowded together on the top step, Sherlock grinning from ear to ear.

"John!"

"'Ello, Sherlock."

Sherlock had a smear of something sticky on his left cheek, and several curls were stuck to it, unable to escape.

"I'm making us lunch, John." Sherlock proclaimed **.**

John thought his friend looked very excited for someone who'd been doing something a lot like a chore.

John was about to say that, when Sherlock bounded back into the house and disappeared down the hall.

John entered the house, shut the door behind him and took off his shoes. He tucked them close to the wall by the door, just like his mum had them do at their house, and set off down the hall after Sherlock.

He was pulled off course by soft voice calling to him from the breakfast room.

"Hello, John."

He twisted around and peered through one of the doors leading off of the hallway. Sitting at the table, and hidden mostly by the day's newspaper was Sherlock's mum. He pulled nervously on the hem of his sweater.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Holmes." 

Her grey eyes were smiling at him over the top of the paper and he shuffled in place a little, unsure if he should walk over to her or stay out in the corridor.  She pulled her teacup back behind the paper, and John was pretty sure she took a long sip before replacing it gently in the saucer.

John slowly crept back a few paces, further into the hallways and raised his hand to wave a simultaneous hello and goodbye at her, when farther into the house a loud cry rang out.

"John? Where are you? John!"

He hesitated mid wave, frozen like a statue. Then in a pique of confidence he boomed back at the imperious tone, "I’m saying hi to your Mum!"

Sherlock made no reply, but John was beginning to get used to that, and so he turned back to Mrs. Holmes, blushing a little as he waved again and made a hasty exit.

Her voice called after him as he bounded down the hallway towards the kitchen and his friend.

"Have fun!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Watson: “School friend, maybe?”  
> Mycroft Holmes: “of Sherlock's?”  
> -The Reichenbach Fall

John was a little confused. Originally he thought they were looking for land, but then Sherlock said something about natives, so John thought they might have been waiting for an enemy attack. But now he couldn't be sure if they hadn't just agreed to off Anderson for pushing John over at lunch time last Friday or if they were about to set sail to a place called Albania.

John didn’t know where or what Albania was, but he didn't think killing Anderson was a good idea, so he tried very hard to make sure they set sail immediately.

"You're right, John. Albania is much more important that Anderson," Sherlock tugged his large hat more firmly onto his head, pulling the large round brim down around his ears so it resembled an upside down taco.

Sherlock was swiveling his head around like he was a periscope, and John thought he resembled one, especially with his hat bent out of shape like that.

"Can you see Albania from my garden, Sherlock?"

"I suspect you are being dull on purpose, John."

John bristled a bit and was about to say something rude about Sherlock's hat, when his friend suddenly crouched down and whispered, "John, do you see that gigantic monster?"

"What?" John watched Sherlock’s hat shake back and forth as he looked side to side, scanning the area. John mimicked him; looking around the cluster of yards he could see from where they were perched on the fence. **"** You mean the hound in Mrs. Hudson's front yard?"

Sherlock tilted his head back as far as it would go, the brim of his hat requiring extra strain to see around. "You know it?"

John shrugged. "It's just a dog, Sherlock."

"It's gigantic, John."

"That's the kind of dog it is. Those kinds are always big like that."

Sherlock eyed John and then the dog warily. His eyes went back to his first mate, "As Captain of this ship, I demand you go and slay the sea beast."

For once John knew exactly what was going on. "You’re scared of dogs. Aren't you?"

Sherlock stood up immediately and glared at John, looking for the slightest bit of laugher. John just looked back, curious and slightly blasé.

"It's alright to be, you know. My sister Harry was scared of Mrs. Hudson's dog before. But when she met him, he wasn't so scary."

Sherlock continued to eye the dog with worry.

"You wanna meet him?"

"He's a dog, John. It’s not like he's going to shake my hand."

"No," John agreed. "He'll sniff you. And maybe lick your hand. He's big so you can't rough house with him, mum says." He hopped off the fence, "You wanna come?"

Sherlock dropped down and pulled off his hat, his hair sticking up on one side, the crazy curls mashed up and kinked out. "Mycroft says that dogs will bite me."

"Mycroft’s daft." John grabbed Sherlock’s hand and together they marched across the road and over to Mrs. Hudson's gate.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock Holmes: “Mrs Hudson, leave Baker Street? England would fall!”  
> \- A Scandal in Belgravia

John rang.

Sherlock waited.

A moment and one more ring later, the door opened and out popped an older woman in a paisley blouse. She took one look at John and broke out in a large grin.  Sherlock decided that she would be lovely and no one would ever be able to convince him otherwise. "Oh John, how nice to see you!" She came up to the gate and let them in. As Sherlock followed John in she cooed, "Who's your friend Johnny?"

"That's Sherlock," John spoke as he made his way across the lawn and towards the dog. "He's my friend."

Mrs. Hudson spoke softly, "John dear, does Sherlock want to come in while you say hi to my dog?"

Sherlock felt a little foolish at being caught lagging behind John. A pirate captain shouldn’t be caught in acts of cowardliness.

John turned and quick marched back over to them. He put his hand on Sherlock's shoulder and confided, quiet loudly, "he's scared of dogs. I'm showing him there's nothing bad about your dog."

The older woman smiled and waved vaguely at her front door. "Afterwards then, you boys come inside and have a piece of peach tart I just got at the market. Though-"

She looked the two of them over and said smartly, "make sure to take your shoes off before you come in, I've just had the floors done."

John nodded, a little abashed and Sherlock watched, as he seemed to wipe his feet on the grass. Without knowing why, Sherlock mimicked him while loudly proclaiming, “will do Mrs. Hudson!” The older woman nodding as she walked back into the house.

The moment the door closed behind her, the hand on Sherlock's shoulder tightened and pressed into action, John dragged him closer to the huge slobbering dog in the middle of the yard.

Sherlock wasn't so sure about meeting it. It seemed as thought it might get him dirty, possibly bite him or sit on him. All of those things would be negative outcomes, but John was already the center of its attention and he was still in one piece.

"Sherlock,"' he waved a hand at him, beckoning him closer. "Put your hand out for him to sniff."

It took a while but, John waited patiently as Sherlock slowly held out his hand, fingers tight together as if he was offering to shake the dog’s hand after all. He lingered close by as Sherlock stood absolutely still while the tall dog chuffed at his fingertips and palm.

"John?"

"It's fine Sherlock, wait a tic." The dog pulled its head up, sat back on its hind legs and thumped its heavy tail on the ground. "See? He likes you."

Sherlock closed his open palm into a fist and smiled. He watched as John reached out with both arms and hugged the dog around the neck, its tail thumping against the ground in pleasure. John spoke from deep within the dog's fur, smugly. "Told you Mycroft was daft." 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft Holmes: “Too much history between us, John. Old scores. Resentments.”  
> John Watson: “Nicked all his smurfs? Broke his Action Man?”  
> \- The Reichenbach Fall

“Come over this weekend?”

Used to be that John came to the manor all the time, but Mycroft had pissed that up. Now, John didn’t come to the manor unless Mycroft was in London for a trip or off at boarding school.

John and Mycroft didn’t really get on.

Well, it’s not that they didn’t get on; it was mostly that Mycroft was usually a hair's breath away from a punch up.

It chiefly hung on the day Mycroft had called him poor. John had always been just and righteous. He wasn’t above knocking the sense into anyone that spoke against his family or friends. But, as the word left Mycroft’s lips, John had gone stock-still. Sherlock was suddenly spurred into action. Drawing on his boxing lessons, he’d landed a hit soundly against Mycroft’s stuffy face.

He’d bled spectacularly.

And even if he’d fallen into the shakes afterwards, and John had had to bandage up his knuckles, and he’d gotten punished for resulting to violence, it was still one of his favorite memories.

Sherlock didn’t really understand why John hadn’t punched Mycroft himself. It bothered him a little that he hadn't reacted to the insult. Sherlock had met John’s family. He wasn’t an idiot, John’s family didn’t live in a palace and they each got a single gift from the others for Christmas. John worked every summer so he could pay school trip fees. But John hadn’t held back the last time someone had called Harry a lesbian. And Harriet was a lesbian. Sherlock was confused. Mycroft was an arrogant turd, didn’t that give John carte blanche?

After the incident, John had kept away from Mycroft. Since Mycroft was a git, that meant staying away from the manor. This upset Sherlock because that also meant he was keeping away from Sherlock by default.

But now? Summer was over and they were back at school. Sherlock loved it.

“So, wanna come over?”

John tilted his head and smiled. “Sure, first week, there’s hardly any homework. I’ll come over after last period, alright?”

Sherlock nodded, pleased, and they kept strolling. John was detailing out his class schedule and what clubs he was thinking about. Sherlock, still home schooled and equipped with a small army of tutors, listened intently. John sometimes wondered if his friend wanted to attend the school all the kids in town did, but John knew it wouldn’t be enough to keep him interested.

“Lestrade was talking about trying out for football when it comes up,” John gave him a sidelong glance. Sherlock said nothing. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for it.”

“Nonsense. You like football and others say you play quite well.”

“Would you come to my games if I made the team?”

Sherlock looked like he wanted to say no. But he stopped and tilted his head towards John. “I would come if you asked me. Even if it was tedious.”

John laughed and patted his friend on the back. “No pressure, mate. I won’t ask you.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft Holmes: “Just once, can you two behave like grown-ups?”  
> John Watson: “We solve crimes. I blog about it, and he forgets his pants. I wouldn't hold out too much hope.”  
> \- A Scandal in Belgravia

“Sherlock, come in for breakfast!”

The voice caught him as he raced down the hall towards the front door. He veered off and came jogging into the breakfast room. His parents were eating, sitting with separate sections of the morning paper.  Mycroft was poking disinterestedly at a half eaten danish.

Sherlock grabbed some toast and spoke around a bite. “Just a quick one, Mummy.”

“You going out?”

“None of your business, Mycroft.”

“You’re very touchy this morning, brother-” Sherlock growled at him, and threw the crust of his toast at Mycroft from across the breakfast table.

“Boys,” their father intoned from behind the paper. Sherlock stuck his tongue out and ran out of the breakfast room and through the front door.

John was waiting for him at his house.

++

John was used to Sherlock being silent. So when they got all the way to the train station without saying anything other than hello to each other, he wasn’t surprised.

The window display for the shop at the train station was piled with candy, John let himself stare at the chocolate bars and felt around in his pocket for the cash he’d brought with him. He had just enough for the train back and forth and the ticket to the show he’d been bugging Sherlock about.

Sherlock would probably suss out who the actual bad guy was before the credits were over, but it was mostly an action flick, so it was more likely he’d be sprawled over the back of John’s chair explaining why the explosions were unlikely and how many rounds a SA80 could fire without stopping. John shook his head.

It wasn’t that John couldn’t get the candy; it was more that he didn’t worried he may come up short on the way home, and it was better to be frugal.

He turned away from the display, and startled when he came nose to nose with Sherlock.

“John,” he asked, “what are you thinking about?”

John laughed and pushed his face away, “I’m thinking about how you’re going to ruin this movie for me.”

“I can be silent for the duration of one idiotic plot line.”

“No you can’t, you daft cow. Besides, that’s half the fun.”

John moved to a bench and closed his eyes when Sherlock didn’t follow. He’d probably gotten lost in a tube map or was sussing out different people on the platform.

“Budge over, John.”

He shifted and Sherlock sat. Something fell into his lap. John held it up.

“Did you nick this from the shop?”

Sherlock shrugged.

“You did!”

“You wanted one.”

“Well yeah,” John reddened and rubbed the back of his head, “I just-”

“John, a pirate does not pay for things he can steal. But if it makes you feel better…”

“No- you’ll probably just muck it up and end up insulting the shopkeeper.”

Sherlock said nothing. He denied nothing. He pulled out another chocolate bar identical to John’s, knocking them against each other, as if to toast.

“You wanker.”


End file.
